Merry Miracles
by RoyalCrimsonCloak
Summary: Hermione and Harry are trying for another baby after Andrew specifically asks for one for Christmas. Can Santa (or Mummy and Daddy) fulfill his wish?


**Author's Note: This piece was written exclusively for the Harmony & Co Advent Calendar on Facebook. Credit and thanks go to NuclearNik and MrsRen for their suggestions and help. -RCC**

Having her husband gone on a mission the week before Christmas was not ideal. Nor was the way their son was eagerly banging around on the door of the loo, murmuring "mumma" over and over again. Hermione braced her hands against the edge of the counter, fingers curled around the edge as she stared down at the stick set just beside the basin, two pink plus lines showing in the small window. This was the third muggle test she'd taken, and she was still in shock even after all the positive results she'd gotten.

Andrew pushed the door open, bobbing his head as he held a treat out to her. "Sick?"

_Sick _didn't begin to cover the extent of her nausea. Without mentioning that he wasn't meant to get into the jar of treats, _or_ that he'd likely spoiled his dinner, Hermione took it from him. "Thank you, sweetheart." She swallowed, staring at the mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her, her eyes seemingly sunken in when they had been so lively just hours earlier. It was only due to her Mum's comment that she'd thought of it at all.

Jean Granger had noticed her daughter was off-kilter a few days ago during their weekly tea.

"What's that?" He asked, standing on his tiptoes to stare at the counter. Pointing at the stick where it sat on the sink, he peered up at her. "Mumma?"

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. Oh, Merlin, Harry wasn't even in the country, and this was—

Impatiently, Andrew asked the same question again.

She took one last look at the stick—indicating a positive result. "Nothing, little love. How would you like to watch the telly?"

He shot out of the room without another thought.

It was now Christmas Eve at the Potter household and the house was finally quiet. The Wireless played quietly in the corner, strains of Christmas carols wafting from it. Hermione had worked tirelessly the week leading to the holidays to make sure things were absolutely perfect. It was little Andrew's third Christmas, but the boy was fascinated with all things concerning the holidays. Even Harry was still fascinated by the beautiful decorations his adoring wife put up every year, by hand no less.

She had put Andrew to bed a few hours earlier, settling on the sofa once he was asleep, to read one of the novels she had picked up at the book-shop while out running errands in Diagon Alley. Harry was gone on a short mission on behalf of the Hit Wizards to aid in the apprehension of a Dark wizard who was trying to peddle even darker artifacts and wouldn't be home until after the holidays.

Her eyes flickered over to the red sack in the corner near the tree. She had good intentions to have all the presents wrapped, but hovering over the toilet nearly every morning put a damper on those plans. She closed the book, unable to focus, having read the same paragraph eight times. Her hand slid to her stomach where a new _unexpected _life was already forming. They _wanted _more children, but finances were tight this year. "Get ahold of yourself, Hermione," she scoffed.

She stood from the sofa and crossed to the bag that had been taunting her for the last hour and flicked her wand, the unwrapped items sailing out and landed on the plush carpet neatly. She performed the incantation to wrap and label the presents and pile them under the tree. When she finished, she smiled and stretched her fingers. She sat back down on the sofa, chewing her lip nervously, something she hadn't done since she learned she was pregnant with Andrew. How would Harry react to this? This was new all over again and she wasn't sure how she could tell him. He had even said,_ "Maybe in a few years love_."

The soft chime from the Floo brought her out of her reverie. Her eyes snapped up to see her ruggedly handsome husband shaking the Floo dust out of his unruly hair. "Harry!" she squeaked. "What are you doing home?" She asked, her face draining of all colour, averting her eyes from his gaze.

"Well, hullo to you too, love," he replied gruffly. He hung his jacket on the wall hook near the fireplace. "Robards cut our mission short and I'm bloody glad he did." He kicked his leather boots off on the mat and crossed the floor, intending to kiss Hermione, but she turned her head, causing his kiss to land on her cheek. He pulled back, frowning. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just tired and been feeling a bit under the weather. I don't want you to get sick," she replied hastily.

"I missed you, 'Mione. I thought of you the entire time I was on that mission and I want to make love to my wife. It's been too damned long," he grumbled. He sat down beside her and reached for her hips to pull her to him, but she scooted away from him.

"N-Not tonight, Harry. I'm sorry. Andrew exhausted me today," she stammered.

Harry relinquished his hands, hurt etched on his face. "Alright then," he murmured, standing and going upstairs.

She watched him go, guilt nearly engulfing her. She despised having to keep a secret, but something of this nature was nearly impossible. She exhaled and rose from the sofa, hand drifting again to her still-flat belly. She climbed the stairs and chose the first guest bedroom, climbing in the bed and drifting into a fitful sleep.

Harry lay awake in the early hours of Christmas morning, mind racing. He had been gone on a mission and the last thing he wanted to do was row with his love. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, noticing Hermione's side of the bed was still neatly made. He groaned softly and flopped backwards onto his pillow. Their first year of marriage had been quite a journey, both learning how to properly communicate with one another. Neither had been in healthy relationships before they began dating, but that was a thing of the past. Or he _thought _so. Had he done something wrong again? He loved the witch, but _Merlin_, he never knew with her. He threw the covers back and reached for his track pants, pulling them on as he stood up. He half stumbled to the bathroom to wash his face, still bleary-eyed, vision clearing as he dried off. He noticed a familiar white stick on the basin, showing two pink lines. His eyes widened, things slowly falling into place. He quickly pocketed the stick and trotted downstairs.

"Happy Christmas, Daddy! Look at the pretties! I wuv the lights!" Andrew chirped, his lisp coming through as Harry strode into the lounge, still rubbing his eyes. The boy might be the spitting image of him, but he was an early riser like his Mummy. Harry ruffled the tyke's hair.

"I see, bud. Mummy did a great job, didn't she?" he said, grinning, as Andrew raced over and jumped in Harry's lap. Harry grunted from the sudden weight in his lap, but tickled Andrew's belly, eliciting squeals from the little boy's mouth. The little guy slid down quickly, racing to the tree and tugging at a bow. "Careful buddy," Harry admonished gently. "Mummy put those up special for you!"

Andrew nodded, babbling about the baubles, staring at the tree mesmerised.

"Andrew, please don't break those," Hermione called tiredly. She came into the lounge, bags evident under her eyes, and lowered herself into the chair opposite Harry.

"Presents, Daddy?" Andrew asked, looking behind him.

"Sure, buddy. Go ahead and see what Saint Nick left you," he replied, one eye trained on Hermione. He watched as Andrew tore into the brightly coloured packages, basking in the excited squeals from the little boy.

Hermione finally spoke. "Harry, you haven't opened your presents yet," she said quietly.

"Oh but I think I already have," he countered, removing her the test from his pocket, eyebrow raised.

Her eyes widened. "Where...where did you find that? Please give it back," she said breathlessly.

"On the basin, Hermoine. Is there something you need to tell me?" he asked, turning to face her.

Andrew toddled over, distracted from the myriad of presents momentarily. "Daddy, what's that?" He asked, pointing to the thing.

"Well, bud, Santa heard you wanted a brother or sister this year," Harry replied, smiling softly over the boy's head at his wife.

After they put Andrew to bed, the pair sat on the sofa, cuddled together, Harry's arms wrapped snugly around Hermione.

"I'm sorry for brushing you off, Harry," she whispered guiltily, tilting her head to look at him. "I was so afraid to tell you; I thought you'd be angry. I know you said you wanted another baby, but not this soon," she continued.

Harry loosened his hold on her and cupped her cheek softly. "Darling, I could _never _be angry with you. I'm getting another baby and my wife's body will be changing and growing to carry it. And I for one am looking forward to those changes," he whisper-growled in her ear, causing her to shiver unabashedly. He flicked his fingers and the Wireless came to life. He stood up and pulled her into his arms, swaying on the spot, lost in the moment. In this moment, nothing could go wrong. So many emotions were brought forth tonight, but— above all happiness—because they were going to be parents again!


End file.
